John Le Mesurier

Well, who'd have thought it of Hattie Jacques. According to BBC4's latest showbiz biopic Hattie, the celebrated comedienne, played by Ruth Jones, conducted quite a carry on of her own back in the sixties. Married to the actor John Le Mesurier, Jacques took a lover ten years her junior and proceeded to move him into the family home as their lodger. Upon discovering the infidelity, Le Mesurier declined the invitation to move out, choosing instead to swap his bed for that of the boyfriend and become cuckold/lodger in his own house. A bizarre compromise that satisfied no-one.

As always with BBC4 biopics, the period was beautifully recreated and the performances top notch, but I never came close to comprehending the characters' behaviour. Nor did I like any of them, although Jones' worked hard to show Jacques charming side. Perhaps Hattie can best be understood and appreciated as a triangular love story fuelled by selfishness, shallowness and cowardice. Not a bundle of laughs, it must be said, but gripping in its own warped way.

It takes a special kind of love to move into the lodger's room in the attic while your wife makes hay with her fancy man in the master bedroom. But that was the peculiar domestic set-up at the conflicted heart of Hattie, the true - yes, true - story of Carry On comedy legend Hattie Jacques.

Ruth Jones certainly looked the part of Jacques, all twinkly eyes and comfortable cleavage, her sunny smile masking the frustration of a career cul-de-sac. 'I know my casting; I'm the frigid fat girl,' she complained, acknowledging her role as the nation's favourite chubby, a 1960s Dawn French, if you like.

But though she gave a good impression of warmth, Jones's Hattie strayed a touch too close to heartless bitch for this remarkable story to fully convince. The heart of the tale belonged to wronged husband John Le Mesurier, played by Robert Bathurst with just the right measure of unqualified love and ruffled dignity. 'He's too vague to be unhappy,' claimed Hattie, granting herself licence to cheat, but Bathurst's nuanced performance turned Le Mesurier's vagueness into a self-protective shield.

As a period piece Hattie worked superbly, its glimpses of Carry On film sets, with Marcia Warren scene-stealing as an embittered bit-parter ('I'm sick of this batty old lady s***') a diverting treat. But we didn't get enough of the self-esteem issues that bedevilled Jacques and led her to jeopardise a happy marriage by falling for a devilishly handsome wheeler dealer who made her squeal between the sheets. She fell rather too easily.

Desperate Romantic Aiden Turner certainly looked the part, all moody scowl and hairy chest, but his gor-blimey accent was comedy working class. 'I'm not a bit of rough!' he exploded but that's exactly how he came across, fine for a lusty leg-over but hardly a prospective long-term partner. Which was why Hattie kept her husband in the house to talk to, during the intervals between the sex olympics.

As I said, peculiar. It fell apart when Le Mesurier met a new love, though everyone remained remarkably civilised, and Hattie's bit of rough ultimately left her. It was all quietly sad and a noble attempt to tell a tricky tale. But I never quite fell for it.

Hattie Jacques's career as a comic actress saw her appear in 14 Carry On films and build a long-term working partnership and friendship with Eric Sykes. But this focuses on her marriage to Dad's Army star John Le Mesurier, which was interrupted when she had an affair with a cabbie and moved him into the marital bed, with Le Mesurier moving into the attic room upstairs. That Jacques and Le Mesurier remained on good terms is testament to Jacques' magnetic, scrumptious warmth, which actress Ruth Jones captures here beautifully.

Ruth Jones is mesmerising as Hattie Jacques, the beloved comic actor and Carry On star, who became part of a domestic ménage with her adored husband John Le Mesurier and a sexy younger man, John Schofield. The story is irresistible: Schofield (played by Being Human's Aidan Turner) is a second-hand car dealer who meets Hattie after a charity event while she's filming Carry On Cabbie and the two are quickly in the grip of an electrifying sexual passion. Bizarrely, even incredibly, Schofield moves into the Le Mesurier family home and the marital bed, with John Le Mesurier banished to the lodger's room in the attic. Yet Stephen Russell's script judges no one as it reveals a marriage that, in its own strange way, was rock-solid: Hattie and Le Mesurier shared a lifelong devotion after their divorce. Ever the gentleman, Le Mesurier (Robert Bathurst) takes the blame for the break-up. Hattie is a touching drama that, for once, doesn't perform a hatchet job on an adored British comedy figure.

The Carry On star and much-loved comic actress Hattie Jacques might have often been cast as a stern matron, a battle-axe even, but Stephen Russell's bittersweet drama reveals a lustier, naughtier side to her character. There are elements of artistic licence in his storyline and Hattie might have benefited if it had offered a broader spectrum to Jacques's life, but this tightly focused film is driven by an exquisite performance by Ruth Jones.

The story details the clandestine affair Hattie embarked on during her marriage to the actor John Le Mesurier (Robert Bathurst) at a time when she was at the height of her popularity. Jacques might have hated being overweight (she longed to be a ballerina), but her size merely seems to fuel her desire as she is readily seduced by the young John Schofield (Aidan Turner) - a handsome, rough and ready used car dealer. Desperate to avoid any kind of scandal ("You British never forgive people who like a lot of sex," says her lover), Jacques, not wanting to lose either man, tries to keep the affair a secret. When Schofield becomes a lodger in the Le Mesurier household, she's forced to divide her time between her tolerant husband - who is portrayed, perhaps a little unkindly, as being lovably hapless and never far from a drink - two children and demanding lover.

It's a beautifully observed production with a sharp script, but the highlight is an astute characterisation of a fragile, highly sexed Jacques.

Ever wondered what Carry On actress Hattie Jacques might've looked like in the throes of sexual ecstasy? Then look no further than BBC 4's latest "tears behind the laughter" biopic, hattie, which takes a mildly scurrilous peek at a peculiar episode from her once private life.

Though hidden from the public during their lifetime, it's now common knowledge that Jacques and her husband, beloved British comedy actor John Le Mesurier, were embroiled in a bizarre love triangle involving cockney chauffeur John Schofield.

The film shows how Jacques was seduced by this ravishing charmer, who then moved into her marital bed while Le Mesurier - in an almost farcical display of gentlemanly English stoicism - was banished to a guest room.

Jacques obviously adored her husband, so what was she thinking? Unfortunately, writer Stephen Russell doesn't provide many answers beyond suggesting that, insecure about her weight, she was flattered by the attentions of a younger man. It all feels rather glib.

Though Schofield (Being Human's Aidan Turner) is depicted as having genuinely fallen in lust with the vivacious actress, Russell also suggests that the material trappings of her celebrity lifestyle proved just as enticing.

As for Le Mesurier, he's portrayed as an exasperating cuckold incapable of functioning without his wife's support. The public humiliation he avoided in life is now exposed for all to see: hardly the point of his sacrifice.

Ruth Jones is fine in the lead role, although she doesn't have much to work with. Maybe Jacques really wasn't that complex in real life, but there must have been more to her than these superficial character traits. She's depicted as warm and charitable, with a girlish sense of fun, but an immature recklessness when it came to her own family. And that's it.

Robert Bathurst steals the acting honours as Le Mesurier, suggesting acute sensitivity beneath those famously vague mannerisms. But his character never really comes alive either.

Although not bad as such, Hattie suffers from rather bland execution. It recounts a strange, voyeuristically interesting story, but rarely engages on an emotional level.

Nostalgia at the End of the Pier

Yes, I think we all felt this was the last - the end of the raod for Dad's Army," says Bill Pertwee of It Sticks Out Half a Mile, the radio sequel to TV's enduring Home Guard comedy success. The series - which begins a repeat run on Tuesday and includes a bonus of four previously unheard episodes - was recorded early last year (1983) abd was to be the last ever completed by John Le Mesurier.

Bill - who of course, played that dirty-fingernailed greengrocer and one-time Air Raid Warden Bert Hodges - believes the whole cast knew that it would probably was the last time they would all work together, though such feelings went unspoken. "The series had originally been mainly written around Arthur Lowe and John, and when Arthur died it had to be re-jigged. John had not been well, though he was feeling better when we recorded the series, but I think we all realised that we'd had a great run - the programmes started on TV in 1968 - and we were coming to the end of it. We'd lost so many of the original cast- Arhtur, John, Laurie, Arnold Ridley, Edward Sinclair, James Beck and a few months later, John was dead too."

I asked Bill to assess the show's enduring appeal. "When it started there was a lot fo kitchen sink drama around and people were pleased to sit back and laugh at this rather gentle company of people," he says, "The younger viewers enjoyed the Mack Sennet routines - the chases and so on - while the older viewers found it extremely nostalgic."

Bill himself had come from a variety background, including playing at the Windmill, and has recently returned to farce with two big hits for the Theatre of Comedy Company in London. "The rest of the Dad's Army cast were all actors, really, so I'd never worked with any of them beofre. We were all terribly different but there was a tremendous camaraderie between us. It was very hard work, but we had wonderfully happy times. You can't help but be sad when you look back now, can you?"

There are TV characters who cling to our memories long after their series have been laid to rest. I'm sure many have speculated about those indomitable triers of Dad's Army. Whatever would happen to them when their pikes were taken away?

And that's the inspiration behind It Sticks Out Half a Mile, which transports John Le Mesurier, Ian Lavender and Bill Pertwee[/i] into 1948 - into a situation where John is now a bank manager, timid Ian is now a trainee manager at Woolworths and Bill is a wheeler-dealer.

Missing from the contingent are Arthur Lowe and John Laurie, now sadly dead. Ian Lavender says, "I played with that team for 10 years. The atmosphere... was so great between us - and I think that carries on, now we are supposed to be three years older." The advantage of radi, he says, "is that I don't need so much Brylcreem and eyeshadow to disguise myself, my voice is more or less the same."